Softly Now
by Spunky Panda
Summary: A Sam vingette about the division after the MS announcement. Includes a little Toby, and a bit of Josh.


Sam stares absently into his drink.  Stirring it, he sighs lightly.  This isn't how it was supposed to go.  He sighs again, heavier this time.

He had been so close.  So close.  He'd almost caught up to the group when the division was made.

Sam had always been apart from the rest of the senior staff.  Out of the loop on occasion.  Always struggling to keep up.  But he'd done well.  They liked him, and from time to time would value his opinion.

He would ground them, sometimes.  See through the political illusions because his naiveté allowed it.  Push them into thinking differently.

And sometimes he would fail, but that's better left for later.

But now...

There had been a split, and he was on the other side.  The ground beneath the Bartlet Administration had fractured, and Sam was left looking across a great chasm at the rest of them.

He blames his father.  He tries not to, but if the news about the affair hadn't been dragging him down, he would have been on the other side.  Probably.

But he's on the outside now, and so he sits here, and stares at his drink.

A couple hours later he calls a cab.  He isn't drunk, but the whole situation sits heavily upon him, and he can't think straight.

"What can I do you for?" the cab driver asks.

Sam shrugs.  "What can anyone do?"

The cabbie turns in his seat to look at him.  "Where do you want me to take you?" he asks slowly.

Sam nods dumbly.  "Oh," he says, "right."

When he doesn't elaborate, the cabbie sighs in frustration.  "Alright, either give me an address or get out.  I got a family to feed."

Sam is surprised, though he shouldn't be.  "You have a family?  What are they like?"

He looks hesitant for a moment, but gives in as a smile breaks out over his face.  "They're great," he says gruffly.  He vaguely reminds Sam of Toby.  "Linda, my wife, she's the sweetest girl you ever met.  And Tommy, my boy, is so smart.  He's gonna grow up and go to college and be something great.  Maybe an astronaut or maybe even president, someday.  Maybe both, even."

Sam's heart clenches painfully, and he doesn't want to hear about Linda and Tommy anymore.  He abruptly rattles off his address and looks out the window.

Streets pass by, buildings, homes.  All in a blur.  It doesn't matter.  Any of it.  The feeling seeps out of him and all he is left with a hollow heart, and a cold, numb place in himself.

The cabbie bids him farewell as he gets out of the car.  "Good luck," he calls.  When Sam doesn't seem to move, he expands upon his initial remark.  "You're an odd one, but nice enough.  It seems like you could use a little luck in your life."

Sam doesn't respond, just dully closes the door and makes his way to his apartment.  

Lovely, he thinks.  Just what I need.

When he gets inside, he makes himself another drink, but he doesn't drink it.  Going to work tomorrow with a hang over would not be a good idea.  Not when he's already lagging behind.

He crawls into bed fully clothed—even though he knows it will wrinkle his suit and be uncomfortable—and curls up.  He closes his eyes and pretends that none of it exists, and that when he opens them everything will be good again.  That Josh will stop acting like everything is the same between them.  That CJ won't look down on him and pity him.  That Toby won't have that look on his face, where he doesn't think Sam is doing anything useful, but doesn't know how to fix him besides quietly agreeing, and hopes Sam will fix himself.  That he will stop finding himself working hard to deal with something that someone already dealt with, or isn't really important, anyway, like a book coming out, maybe.

The next day he doesn't wake to the sound of his alarm, doesn't wake up until Toby calls him.

"Hello," he mumbles into the phone, which is something he hardly ever does.  Enunciation has always been important to him.

"Where in God's name have you been?" Toby half-shouts, which is almost weird for him, too.

"What time is it?"

"What does it matter what time it is?  You are late and that is all that matters."  Toby pauses.  "I needed you here.  With the thing...you know?"

Sam doesn't know.  He hasn't known anything since he finally learned something.  "What thing?"

"The thing...with the..." Toby struggles for words.  "You know—with the people."  Apparently satisfied he got his point across, he moves on.  "I really could have used some backup.  I needed you there."

Sam laughs a little, and the sound is so hollow to his own ears that he almost cries.  "Needed me?  When was the last time anyone needed me?  When was the last time I did anything worthwhile?  When was the last time that the 'Real Thing' was real at all?"

A long, tense pause.  "Sam?" Toby asks, because he's not sure if he's really hearing this.  "Sam...You know that's not true.  I don't quite get what this 'real thing' is, but you've been real, you've been doing worthwhile..." Toby fades off, because he knows it's not true.

Sam sighs.  He shakes his head to himself.  Yeah, this is it.

"We—  You—" Toby tries again, "It'll get better.  It'll—It'll smooth out."

He shakes his head again, though Toby can't see it.  "No," Sam says.  "No, this is it."  He pauses, working up the courage.  "I can't work if I'm not part of the team.  You'll have my resignation by the weekend."

Toby protests.  "Sam, you can't...you can't just..."

"Toby, if you don't mind," Sam interrupts, "I'd rather Josh not find out right away.  I'll write him a note or something, to let him know, you know?"

"Sam, this is crazy—"

"Goodbye," Sam tells him, and he means it.

The next morning Sam walks into the building he will soon formerly have worked at.  It's definitely a beautiful place to work, he thinks.  Full of hope and visions of the future and shards of his broken soul.

He walks purposefully through the halls, tightly clutching his resignation letter.  He thought about making it short and to the point, but Sam, even in his darkest moments, is not one to do something halfway.

He tries to be inconspicuous as he strides by Josh's office, but Josh calls to him, and like a well trained dog, he obeys.

"I noticed you weren't at work yesterday," Josh says casually.  He doesn't seem overly concerned—Toby must have kept his word.  Sam allows himself to relax a fraction.

"Hmm," Sam says noncommittally, which is strange coming from someone who can make words flow like honey.

"What was up?" Josh tries again, looking slightly worried.

Sam knows he's setting himself up for a fall later—Josh will not be happy at being lied to—but he hasn't written Josh a note and he doesn't know how to tell him.  He tries, but the words don't come out.

"Well," he finally forces out, "I just...It was one of those days."  He shrugs.

Josh nods like he understands, and he probably thinks he understands, but he really doesn't.  And even though he thinks he knows what's going on, he can't think of anything to say about it, so he tries to think of a way to get rid of Sam, something he never used to do.

"I've got...you know, work to do," he dismisses Sam, and Sam again feels like a dog as he leaves.

Sam doesn't acknowledge Donna as he walks by, but he thinks that she probably knows how it feels.  To be at someone's beck and call.  To have people talk down to you.  But she probably never thought of herself as above that anyway, so it won't be some life changing shock when she finds herself on the other side of the great divide.

Or maybe it's all in his head.

By the time he's thought all this, he finds himself outside Toby's office.  He glances vaguely at his office, his soon to be former office, and feels a pain in his chest that he likens to a heart attack.

But then he is over it, and so he goes into Toby's office.

Toby looks a little surprised.  It's only Wednesday, so no wonder.  Sam doesn't know why he gave himself till the weekend, anyway.

"Here," he says, thrusting his resignation at him.

"I can't accept this," Toby says matter-of-factly, but he seems a little sad.

Sam looks away, takes a deep breath, and turns back to Toby.  "You will take my resignation.  You will take my resignation, and I will clean out my office," his voice gets louder and louder, until he's shouting, "and you will go back to writing speeches and you will find another Deputy, a better Deputy, and we'll all live happily ever after!"

Toby, more shaken than he'd like to admit, says, "I can't take it.  The President won't allow me to."

"The President?" Sam asks, enraged.  "You brought him in on this?  I can't believe...I just..."  He wilts slowly.  He stumbles and has to hold onto the wall for support.

Toby's hesitation seems to have evaporated.  Full of energy, he rips Sam's resignation to pieces.  "Sam," he shouts, "you are a great Deputy.  And I need you.  We need you.  This is rut, that's all!  We will get through this; we will get through this together.  We are a team.  Me and you and Josh and CJ.  We are a family!"

"We aren't a family," Sam says, almost caustically, but the hurt shines through.  "Linda and Tommy and the cab driver are family.  With sweetness and dreams and love.  With hope and bonds so strong that life itself stands back in awe!  Families aren't games of keep away and secrets and loops to be left out of!  Families don't...Families don't let each other fall."

"Sam," Toby, says, more dangerous than before, but softer somehow, too.  "Sam.  We did not leave you behind.  We're all struggling with it.  We haven't locked you out of the room.  We're just dealing with it best we can, same as you."

Sam slides down the wall, holding himself as though wounded.

"Stay, Sam.  Stay."

Sam feels a little feeling draining back into him.  Maybe, he thinks, maybe this will work out.  Maybe Toby is right.  Maybe the chasm is not so great that with a little help from the other side he can cross it.

And he can't really abandon Josh.  Josh is his best friend, and he swore to himself long ago that he would follow him to the edges of the earth.  And Josiah Bartlet, while not perfect, is one hell of a man, and deserves his respect.  And what would Batman do without Robin?  And Donna may need someone who's made the jump to help her across.

And so Sam slowly nods, pulls himself up off the floor and together in the same moment, and starts toward the door.  "I'll be in my office," he calls over his shoulder, and Toby almost breaks down and starts crying there.

It'll be okay.  It'll be okay.


End file.
